Thrice he lured him
by esuterutomoru
Summary: Neither admitted they understood the meaning of it until it was too late. A fic conjured up probably too quick out of fun. Dub-conish, GinRyuu rarepairing, yaoi.


**Disclaimer: Still don't own Bleach or Gin... if I did...**

**Warnings: Dub-con Gin/Ryuuken stuff... dirty words?**

A/N: Wrote it quick, maybe too quick, wanted to see if I could still whip up anything worth posting, if I could still write m'Gin. I enjoyed writing it, hope you enjoy reading it!**  
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**Thrice he lured him**

First he saw him, a young man with eyes brimming with an old man's grief of hope lost, crushed and standing in the rain as though waiting for it truly to wash it all away. Steered by his own curiosity, he slid after him, rooftop to rooftop like a honeybee and he watched the silky steps that young man took towards bitterness. They were careful steps, slow and deliberate to mark a future he has drawn up methodically for himself to suit an image that society expects from him.

Oh, he had loved that girl, hadn't he? The one that Shiba took from him, the doe-eyed girl with the graceful limbs and golden hair, lovely as can be. Truth of it was though, he didn't care whom the young man loved. He had very little care in himself those days, erased by blood, erased by the thrill of the kill, erased by all that he had signed up to become when he donned the black and slipped on the white of deceit soon after. Gin, the snake, had been born that day and Gin, the fox, was slumbering somewhere deep within, scarce remembered.

Curiosity soon turned obsession, rooted deep and spread within, drilled holes into his patience so clever, pulled desires from between his teeth that he, like many of his kind, dead and still living, did not have or could not indulge in. Lust was upon him like a hurricane, shaking, twisting, roaring wild. His soul came alive with needs beyond murder and he could not remember the last time he felt his blood sing so hot when he wasn't killing.

Such unintentional allure in the young man's perfect Cupid's bow mouth… a thin thread, spun tight, was all that kept him from biting blood roses into the frown curving them down. Sanity, or so he called it, but he suspected it had very little to do with the integrity of his mind… no one, who killed as much as they did up there, Death Gods, a flowery name, could stay sane forever. They were all a little fucked-up in the head.

The snapping of his patience came as easy as it felt forever for it to arrive. One look, one stray glance through a slit in the curtains at just the right moment, a proud line of a proud back bared to his gaze, white as ice and cold with goosebumps… and Gin was upon him, menacing and cruel and bursting with hunger, foaming at the mouth.

Silver python, silver cobra, a mix of the two with venom on his teeth and strength in his body, he finally cornered the young man. The proud Last Quincy, with such prowess, no match for the Hundred Sheather. Little to no resistance in him when Gin's hand coiled around his naked length and coaxed a sigh from his trembling nymph of a mouth. No will left in his sagging shoulders as his hips rolled forward to show his hesitant desire for relief from reality. Perhaps even death though suicide is never an option.

They fucked like animals. There truly was no tomorrow, proverbial or not, never another time for the two of them they knew and took filthy advantage of the fact. No shame in either, no shame when it hurt, no shame when it burned, when sperm was everywhere, when they fucked even when they had nothing left to spill. Always seeking only pleasure, always seeking only the other, and themselves lost in the rush of it all, they rocked and heaved and fell.

Tangled up in their abandonment, they finally learned each other's names. A moment of awkwardness that neither would remember as either… which one of them? asked for it first and the answer came and a response in turn. A laugh, brimming with fresh moans as they found another rhythm they enjoyed and allowed it to lead their bodies towards release again and again.

The end was abrupt, a blur still. Something happened, perhaps a touch out of synch, a word placed wrong. Gin was gone, the young man left shaking in a sheen of cum, sweat and blood, their torrid sex still crawling up his spine with screeching pleasure and pain.

The second time was a whirlwind. It came sudden, with no preparation, no stalking of the prey, no lusts coaxed slowly into existence. Vicious, the desire bit down on Gin with its venom soaking him to the bones. As simple as that, one night he woke to a burning and without a mind for what he was doing, he left to seek out his old victim.

He found him quick, in bed with his wife, resting for an early morning of work. A strand of white as snow hair resting against his cheek, Gin saw him and had no thoughts, only instincts from there onwards.

Instincts only as he dragged the man by his hair from the bed, pulled him from the silk and cotton, woke him rough, woke his wife screaming, pulled him to the nearest room with a lock… the bathroom, so cliché, locked it, heard the woman scream higher, heard her call out his Last Quincy's name with her voice cracking just as he entered the man. He tore him, ripped him up worse than he had that first time and groaning hoarse, loud like a mating beast he came with the first thrust inside him.

His second, frenzied thrust pulled an airy sigh from those perfect Cupid's bow lips despite the situation and Gin knew that again he had him whole. The pounding of their flesh drowned out the pounding on the door, their sounds of pleasure and want muted the weeping cries of the woman. They fucked in madness, but only once.

A kiss too deep and their eyes meeting and that's where it crashed upon them both, the gravity of it, the sheer impossibility. They tore apart as viciously as they mated and all was forgotten, all was erased for good for both of them. Neither acknowledged the meanings, the messages and the unspoken truths behind truths.

Emptiness came and slothful monotony, grey cold and listless days passing unworthy of even a mention. Passing of a spouse, leaving a home, disappointing a best friend, losing a son… not a thing worth flinching over. It all happened because something had to happen for life to go on, but nothing truly had a weight anymore, not when they've felt the weight of that understanding.

For so long, nothing moved. All was still and they were apart in that painful stillness, always denying, passive and frightened.

The third time, Gin came to him slowly courting, braced with bravery he never knew he possessed, an armor sprouted from desperate, helpless fury. His old prey was now a widowed man with a son no longer respecting him, swallowed up by that life he had designed for himself in his grief twenty years ago.

He met him in his office in the Hospital he ran and simply told him what day it was. The moment he uttered the sentence, the cold, distrustful mask melted off of the man's face, dropped into that grief-stricken expression that first caught his attention with its breakable delicacy on the felinely smooth features. Those perfect Cupid's bow lips curved down and came upon his with cooling heat so sad it broke cold steel apart.

That day, they made love like no other sweet couple ever has in the world. They made love so true it hurt, ached with every breath, in their lungs, in their limbs, in their eyes, their tongues melting into kisses. They made love for hours, until the sadness emptied into anger and names fell too rough from kiss-bruised tongues, nails sank too deep into sweat-soaked flesh and teeth bit too harsh on love-marked skin.

A day before the final war, the director's office in Karakura General echoed with the filthiest of curses, shaking true with ecstasy delightful yet terrified…

Thrice he lured him and nevermore.


End file.
